


The mighty fall (in love)

by LittlePsycho15



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AtsuHina Week 2020, Crime AU, Detective Hinata, Happy Ending, I swear no one dies, Killing Eve AU, M/M, Pining, Smut, assassin atsumu, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24586969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlePsycho15/pseuds/LittlePsycho15
Summary: atsuhina week 2020, day 1: crime auHis boss’ brilliant solution was to sent him – the absolute best – to murder Hinata. Just not so suddenly.[...]What wouldn’t be expected was for theinteresting, composed, charmingAtsumu Miya to be so fascinated by the walking disaster Hinata Shouyou was.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 18
Kudos: 102





	The mighty fall (in love)

As Atsumu listened to his boss talking and talking and  _ talking  _ – did he never run out of air? –, he stretched and stared at him with half lidded eyes, smirking.

«I know I have to clean up after Omi-kun’s mess» he pointed at Sakusa on the other side of the room, «but I’m  _ the best. _ This many advices are quite offensive.»

«You indeed know how to kill» commented Oikawa bored, chewing a gummy bear and looking threatenly at Sugawara, who was trying to steal his candies, «but you were never good at  _ relationships. _ »

«I… I mean…  _ you… _ » he turned around speechless, looking at all his colleagues. Unbelievable. What an insult. He stared at Akaashi, hoping for him at least to defend his honor, but he was rearranging some files without even listening. Atsumu got up, fixing his suit and opening his arms. «… you guys love me, dontcha?»

Suga had the  _ audacity  _ to freeze with an hand on Oikawa’s face and with Oikawa’s elbow in his stomach to look at Atsumu, shaking his head, pitying him. «Of course we don’t, Miya-kun. How could think that?» he whispered worried.

As Oikawa laughed hysterically, Atsumu pushed Suga on the floor.

_

«Come on,  _ ‘Tsumu ‘Tsumu _ , I was joking!» Suga threw an arm on his shoulders, grey hair tickling his cheek. Suga pinched his hip (Atsumu wished he could cut his fingers off), he kicked his ankles (and his legs), and he grinned lovingly (and his face too).

«No, actually I wasn’t» Suga corrected himself, «your jokes are awful, you were an annoying  _ kouhai _ , you never gave me credit for everything I thought you, your haircut is ugly…»

«…I set your car on fire…»

_ «You set my car on fire!  _ My baby! My beautiful baby! After I worked so hard in Barcelona! _ » _

Atsumu looked at him annoyed, walking through the park. According to what Akaashi and Shirabu gathered (they were cramped in a tiny car full of McDonalds, with no sleeping or showering for a week) (when he laughed at them back on the headquarters, Akaashi pointed a gun to his leg and ordered him to shut up with blood injected eyes), the subject should have been there in ten minutes, because there was a shortcut to the police station. Apparently he was a slacker.

«You’ve got  _ five  _ cars» Atsumu said, breathing in fresh air and closing his eyes, as if Sugawara could magically disappear.  _ Of course  _ he was still there, pretending to dry his eyes for a Maserati he owned for less than a week.

«Dontcha have anything else to do?» he growled, «off you go», he moved his hand to point at whatever place Suga was supposed to be. Probably nowhere.

«This is exactly what I’m talking about» Suga exclaimed, smacking his head. «you’re mean to everyone, they should have sent someone else for this job.»

Suga crossed his arms and pouted like a kid who was denied dessert.

«I’m here» Suga muttered, «because when Mr-let’s-snoop-in-the-organization’s-business will came, at least you’ll look like someone who has friends.»

«Then you can leave, because my plan is to  _ clumsy  _ trip on him, apologise with my  _ irresistible _ smile and notice that we are going in the same direction» he informed him dryly. «Getting his phone number before we part will be a piece of cake.»

«Are you serious?»

Suga widened his eyes to the other’s indifference and burst laughing hysterically.  _ «You’re serious!» _

«Do you think we live in a shoujo manga? What are the chances this works? If he doesn’t tell you to fuck off, he would probably go away ‘cause you’d look suspicious, and you’d lose your opportunity. If you tried to get close to him again he would remember you and you’d be  _ too  _ suspicious. I should remind you he’s a private detective currently working with the police» Suga stopped for a second to make a disgusted face, because, well,  _ fuck the police _ . «He may realize that as he is looking into drug trafficking, a stranger tries to befriend him. You should get a job as a delivery boy, so you could meet him as you deliver him pizza, for example.»

«Do cops eat pizza?»

«Seasoned with virgins' and children’s blood, I suppose.»

Atsumu gave another look at the files, even if he knew everything. Name, habits, family, where he lived, height –  _ ridiculously short. _

Whatever Suga said, his plan would work just fine.

Hinata Shouyou was a problem out of the blue: his boss sent Sakusa to get rid of one of his colleagues, who dig way too deep into their business, but his sudden death got them nothing but a bunch of more detectives trying to investigate. His boss’ brilliant solution was to sent him – the absolute best – to murder Hinata. Just not so suddenly. A job which could potentially last months, so no one would link the organization to the matter. Then he could quickly disappear and enjoy a very well deserved holiday on some desert island.

As a professional assassin, Atsumu had a few, strict rules, just to be sure no evidence could ever lead to him.

One: no real personal information:  _ just lies, lies, lies. _ Everything needed to be a lie, from his name to the pet hamster he had when he was five. Of course he wasn’t going to make them up ad he went, they were already set. (Heiji Nakamura, 25, psychologist, third child, two older sister, lovely parents – teachers, they met when they became colleagues _ – _ , animal enthusiast – but after Mii died he was too hurt to get another cat).

Two: no accent. His  _ charming  _ Kansai accent would have been just a bother. No one needed to know where he was from.

Three: no feeling for the target. Pointless and cliché, sure, but in such long mission it always helped to remember his actual goal.

Four: no telling the target he is the target. Don’t make a show out of it, just kill him. Just imagine how dumb it sounded to tell someone: “I’m going to kill you”, and then maybe letting the victim running away or something. That sort of scene was not in his style – Tendou, on the other hand, loved playing with his food right before eating it.

Suga hit his shoulder.

«Target’s coming, prince charming. Let’s see what you can do.», he whispered jokingly. Then Suga took a proper look in his direction and let out an appreciative whistle.

«Is the one with him one of the targets?», Suga asked.

Atsumu stared at the oncoming figures e immediately recognized both of them.

«Sawamura Daichi, 26, Hinata Shouyou’s high school senpai. He’s the one who asked for his help. He’s department chief and», he added. «he has quite an exquisite ass.»

«Did you noticed too?», Suga squeaked, incredibly happy. Suga grabbed his arm and when Atsumu, terrified, asked him what the hell was going on, he just told him he was starting his mission.

_

He dragged him in the main street, running, while stand byers must have wondered what could have possibly happened for them to hurry so much so suddenly. He could hear Suga being already out of breath, even if they literally just started running a couple second before. There was no reason to make such a scene. (Atsumu remembered running at breakneck speed, down in Budapest, wearing more weapon then layer of clothes and with adrenaline pumping in his veins. When they finally stopped, Suga didn’t even sweat.) So what now, of all moment…  _ oh no. _

He turned around to see Suga's eyes filled with tears, some of them already streaming down his cheeks.

«Agent!», he shouted, stopping right in front of them, breathing heavily and straight away talking to Sawamura. Atsumu just wanted to disappear.

«I…  _ we… _ », Suga stared at Atsumu, «we witnessed a kidnap near the train station…», he dramatically paused, as Sawamura quickly grabbed his walkie talkie.

«…both our batteries ran out, so we thought of alerting the police.», Suga finished while calming his breath and shutting his eyes in order to stop crying.

Atsumu finally remembering why a kidnap at the train station sounded so familiar. Oikawa was involved there. Maybe at the very time they were alerting authorities. If he were to find out…  _ god _ , why did Suga have to complicate everyone’s life?

Then Suga grabbed poor Sawamura’s arm, blabbering about calling for reinforce on the way, because he could still remember the exact point of the kidnap. Until then Sawamura hadn’t opened his mouth, but he turned to Hinata and ordered him to go back to the police station and make a report, since he would take care of this. Staring at his harsh eyes, Atsumu couldn’t help but pity Oikawa.

Once Atsumu was alone with Hinata, he had no idea on what to do. He had to start all over. He didn’t trip on him and now he had nothing to apology for and Hinata definitely did not have time to waste with him. he took a better look at Hinata and wondered how a guy so small could scare experienced criminals. Akaashi and Shirabu’s out of focus pictures didn’t make him justice, anyway.

(When he complained about it, Shirabu stared very pissed at him until he said the pictures were actually in hd. To be honest, those were so out of focus that he could only distinguish an orange circle which was supposed to be his hair.)

Before Hinata could run away, Atsumu started to scrape his neck, trying to look embarrassed and inexperienced. «I could come with you», he suggested.

Now, Atsumu didn’t want to sound dramatic, nor actually inexperienced, nor in a shojo manga, but… how to put it… he  _ smiled. _

He smiled in such a honest and heartwarming way, with half lidded eyes and shiny white teeth and such soft lips and his neck muscle were just barely tensed.

It was a bit too much, for him. A bit too fast, since he actually left his brain on the bench he was sitting with Suga.

«Sure, why not!»

To be fair, Atsumu himself could point out a millions reason as to  _ why not,  _ such as you shouldn’t trust strangers, and his was a silly request, and definitely Hinata didn’t need him to escort him to the police station. But Hinata didn’t say a word, he just walked alongside him.

Atsumu’s brand new phone, already filled with pictures of his  _ older sisters _ and his  _ parents _ and his dead cat, Mii (they were all well paid actors, even the cat, he believed) – buzzed and he read a message that only Suga could have possibly sent.

_ “I'm going to ask for details~” _

Atsumu wasn’t paid enough for this bullishit.

_

Hinata Shouyou was likely the kindest man in the world and maybe once Atsumu murdered him the devil himself would compliment him for such a deed. As they were walking to the police station, Hinata stopped many times to say hello to old grannies and kids and honestly whoever he seemed to know. They chatted a lot, and Hinata smiled a lot, and laughed at his stupid jokes, and stared at him with big, bright eyes, so lively.

If he wanted to hit on him, he could have stopped after the first crossroad for sure - which was exactly where Suga and Atsumu met them. 

Atsumu kept enough cool to actually remember where his apartment was (the tiniest possibile space gently offered by his boss, who kept telling him  _ “who would believe a rookie psychologist lived in fancy places” _ , whenever he proposed pretty houses.  _ Stingy. _ ), be then he became utterly fucked.

«Oh dear! I didn’t even ask your name!», Hinata exclaimed mortified, stopping and looking at him like a lost puppy. He seemed shy as he bit his lips. «I just talked about me! Tell me something about yourself!»

Oh, well, there wasn’t much to say… he got his job by chance, because he ended up in some questionable circles, and then Kita-senpai just offered him a job with a too good of a pay to refuse. He had a twin, Osamu, whose main worries were food and keeping his boyfriend from finding out Atsumu’s real job and of course his company  _ Onigiri Miya _ . Their mother still lived in Kansai, such a  _ lovely  _ woman…

Wait- no!

His silence was probably suspicious, as he tried to recall his fake identity.

(Heiji Nakamura, 25, psychologist, third child, two older sister, lovely parents – teachers, they met when they became colleagues _ – _ , animal enthusiast – but after Mii died he was too hurt to get another cat)

Hinata clearly interpreted his silence as something different from not recalling his fake self, and suddenly became apologetic.

«You don’t have to say anything! Maybe you’re uncomfortable because I’m a detective…», Hinata looked around, searching for something who could help easy the embarrassment. If he was to find a rope, Atsumu thought, he could have use it to hang himself.

«That’s absolutely not the point…», he tried to reassure him.

«Ah. So, what’s your name?»

_ (Heiji) _

«Atsumu», he answered, speaking before thinking.

_ (Nakamura) _

«Miya», he said then, fighting the urgence to bite his lips and punch himself.

That picked Hinata’s interested.

«As in “Onigiri Miya”?»

( _ «Nah, we just happen to share a surname», laugh and charismatic smile.) _

«Yeah, it’s my brother’s company.»

«Really? Awesome!»

His first rule was just gone.

_

Once they got to the police station, Hinata finally realized that walking around with a civilian wasn’t the brightest idea. As Atsumu planned – actually, the only thing that went along with Atsumu’s plan – Hinata gave him his phone number, leaving him with the same warm smile he had the whole time.

Well. Now Atsumu had an uncomfortable futon, Hinata’s phone number and a ton of useless information about him – such as Hinata went running every morning, but this past month he was forced to stop due to a minor foot injury (that’s why  _ that _ wasn’t in his files), his little sister wanted to become a vet because they were never allowed to have pets, the cop who gave him the hardest times was some Tsukushima guy and his favourite was named Yachi.

Now, getting information about the victim was essential, sure, but this specific kind of information mostly pissed Atsumu off. The more he thought about it, the guiltier he felt. And this had nothing to do with the nuisance feeling he had when he first started, when sometimes he threw up and cried and was for sure an annoying kouhai. It’s easier to stroll around town and then finish the day with some strangling in a dark alley, or maybe some poisoning in a restaurant, or some stabbing in a club.

But  _ this _ . Atsumu didn’t want to know anything about his, he didn’t want to do anything about this. It always hurt a little. Lies made it less real – as if that was a movie someone else was playing, and he was just enjoying it with some popcorn, perfectly capable of leaving if he wanted to.

He knew the name rule was just bullshit (he just had to remember to use his real id instead of the fake one) (it was risky, yeah, but nothing unmanageable), though he couldn’t help but think he told the truth without even realising it, as if he could be his real self with Hinata. Atsumu snorted with an unsettled feeling in his chest.

Maybe the more they talked, the more he’d find Hinata annoying. Maybe he had stinky breath or he was boisterous or he actually drank children’s blood or he had a weird collection of  _ maneki neko _ . Worst, maybe he took his coffee black. You can’t trust somehow who take his coffee black, Atsumu was sure. Osamu took his coffee black.

So, just to check – not because he wanted to hear his voice, of course – he called him. And Atsumu was perfectly fine until Hinata actually answered.

_ What the hell did he do? _

«Hello?», Hinata’s voice sounded uncertain, an Atsumu could picture him frowning eyebrows, teeth biting his bottom lip, incapable of staying still.

_ What was he supposed to do? Ask him on a date? Where? _

«It’s me, Atsumu», he immediately said, fearing Hinata may end the call. If Hinata were to close the call he would take his next call as a prank and wouldn’t answer. Maybe. He did have a fake psychology degree, after all.

«Miya-kun!»

Atsumu pretended not to notice, but the way Hinata’s voice just became so cheerful and relieved, hearing it was him, made him happy. Because it meant it would take him less time to murder him,  _ of course _ .

«Would you like going out for a coffee once your shift is done?», he asked in one breath, sinking his nails into his arm to keep his voice from trembling and stay focused.  _ What a clown. _ Why was he nervous? Why was he so into him after meeting for barely thirty minutes?  _ Baka _ . He was so stupid, so stupid, so, so stupid.

«Sure!», Hinata shouted, almost hurting his ears. «I’m done by six pm. Wanna meet at the  _ Karasuno Cafè? _ »

Where was that?

«Yeah, fine. See you at six, then» he whispered. He felt incredibly tired as he closed the call, staring at the red scratches on his arm. By the time this job was over he would go bald.

_

Atsumu Miya had a perfect sense of orientation. Because he was perfectly capable of doing anything, and reading signal was definitely among the things he knew how to do perfectly. So  _ this  _ wasn’t his fault. It was fault of the guy who hung those signal. Nope, it was fault of the guy who hired the one who hung them. Better yet, it was citizens' fault for voting a mayor who couldn’t properly choose his staff. Actually, it was Atsumu’s boss’ fault for assigning him such a mission –  _ not Atsumu for accepting it, of course, he had no choice.  _ To be fair, it was Hinata Shouyou’s fault. If he didn’t play the detective his life would be longer and Atsumu wouldn’t look like an idiot looking for the café.

This new perspective enraged him, and with renewed bloodlust he stopped a bystander to ask for directions. The girl blushed as she carefully explained how many turns he needed to take in order to get there. She was pretty and was wearing a nice, fruity perfume. If only he wasn’t so caught up with his job and wasn’t  _ so  _ professional maybe he could take a break for a while and…

_ His mission. _

Atsumu thanked her and adventured himself in a jungle of turns and street that finally lead him to a tiny café, with an orange exterior and a sign with flying crows on it.  _ Karasuno _ , right.

In the entrance he could smell a strong coffee aroma. Every possible kind of dessert was displayed before his eyes. Osamu would have loved it (and then Atsumu would have to pay for it, because Osamu never had money with him and then they would have fought. And then they would be both banned.)

It seemed very cozy. There were wooden round tables with a vichy table cloth, a comforting chattering from guests, old leather sofa against the walls, those kind of sofa which made it impossible to get up.

That was not the kind of place Atsumu would have chosen. He liked open spaces, big windows facing parks, dark themed furniture, metal coffee table and footstool, and at least a menu with vegan options.

Hinata choosing the place was for the best, so Atsumu could imagine what sort of things he may like. As he sat crossing his legs, he thought about the next dates. Going to the zoo was probably a good idea, or maybe an aquarium. Atsumu immediately rejected fancy restaurants, having a picnic would be nicer. 

Atsumu could have realised it sooner: he was such an easy-going person, so full of energy, so kind. Every past experience he had with the police was close to disaster. There always was someone way to smart who would get too close to them, or someone way to bored who had to check his id only to barge about how it seemed irregular. Those people would be admirable if only they weren’t so easy to corrupt. Or to kidnap and tie like a salami. Pathetic.

Though Hinata could be the sort of person so awfully correct and loyal to duty, the sort of person who would throw himself into a shooting just to save a kid. In such a small and quiet town there couldn’t be much to worry about, Atsumu thought. From what he gathered from Akaashi, Atsumu knew there weren’t many gangs and they mostly minded their business. Most problematic criminals could be pharmacists selling morphine illegally. Being the most dangerous man in town was quite pleasing for Atsumu.

«Hi», Atsumu said toward Hinata, not addressing he was fifteen minutes late. If Atsumu hadn’t such a high opinion of himself, he might have even thought Hinata dumped him.

«Sorry I was late, I got held to check some papers, then Tsukishima kept complaining so we had a fight and then-», Hinata talked in a rush, as he sat and put off his coat. The tip of his nose was red and his cheek were also flushed. He probably came there running.  _ Cute _ .

( _ No _ , not cute, no no no, messy, laggard, too talkative, tasteless, nosy-)

Atsumu shrugged, faking his indifference, mindlessly staring at the menu, which actually was two piece of paper held together by a plastic cover. God, even  _ Starbucks _ was better than that. 

«So, what should I order?», he asked Hinata, avoiding an awkward silence.

As far as  _ not having friends _ , Oikawa was definitely wrong: first, Atsumu  _ knew _ his colleagues loved him (Omi-kun always sprayed his disinfectant twice after he touched something, surely because he didn’t want him to get some illness, not because he thought Atsumu was contagious or something); second, he had absolutely no trouble with human interaction, although someone who grew up with Osamu should actually fear and be disgusted by human kind: third, he didn’t have many friends due to his job.

He was perfectly capable of having interesting conversation, and even if Hinata Shouyou may seemed to have a ton of flaws, being quiet was no one of those. (Atsumu could hear Akaashi’s flat voice arguing that being quiet wasn’t actually a flaw. He managed not to laugh).

«Mhhh», Hinata went, resting his chin on his hand, like he was carefully thinking about the matter. Hinata didn’t even look at the menu, he probably went to this place often enough to know it by heart. Atsumu didn’t get how someone so lively could also have a routine without wishing to break it. Atsumu had lived on the edge for too long to objectively think about routines. 

«...it depends on what you like. I love the cinnamon latte! Not to sweet and taste like Christmas!»

«Christmas has a  _ taste _ ?»

«Well, they  _ do _ put cinnamon in every Christmas sweet, so of course you end up associating things.», Hinata looked at him questioningly, «Don’t you?»

«I never thought about it», Atsumu answered, tilting his head. He was curious, «Soon it will be summer, though.»

«There is no such thing a time for Christmas!»

«December?»

«No! The only thing that matter it’s the spirit!»

Atsumu giggled as he nodded, «Fine, fine, I’ll take the cinnamon latte too.»

After an exuberant waiter wearing a way too long apron took their orders, Atsumu asked Hinata about his day. Atsumu just couldn’t forget how easily he broke his precious first rule. As much as Omi-kun loved to say he was too irresponsible to follow rules, being those self-given rules made him feel like he betrayed himself. Suga thought they were absolutely useless, but Atsumu couldn’t wrap his mind about how he followed them when he was a rookie and how he just broke them being a professional.

He looked at Hinata, with cute milk mustaches. Perfectly calculating his moves - hand in his hair, shit-eating grin, eyes locked in Hinata’s - Atsumu moved forward to wipe away the milk before Hinata could say anything.

When he sat back, he had the satisfaction to see Hinata’s cheeks get a very deep red. Atsumu thought about winking too, but that was probably too bold. Although, the sooner the job was done, the sooner he could have enjoyed a vacation on a desert island, with clear, blue water, wearing an hawaiian shirt and eating a giant coconut. Oh, to think how jealous Suga and Osamu would be!

Atsumu quickly winked to Hinata, immediately hiding behind his glass. He peaked a little, just to enjoy the sight of Hinata’s ears getting red as well.

«So- what’s your job?», Hinata squeaked, trying not to choke on his latte.

_ I’m killing cute detectives, apparently. _

(Not  _ cute _ , average looking, barely acceptable, not more than a five.)

«I just graduated. Psychology. I’ve got a office in Tokyo», Atsumu answered slowly, biting his cheeks to be sure not to let any other information slip out.

«Travelling for work or for pleasure?»

_ Flirting like this was too easy. _

«Now it’s definitely for pleasure.», he whispered softly, not looking away from him. It wasn’t as satisfying as fluster a cold and detached person, but Atsumu was curious to see how many times he could make Hinata blush.

«So you’re not helping your brother with his company?»

«Oh no», he avoided the topic, «we don’t really get along.»

«Tell me about you. Why did you become a detective?», Atsumu asked, frankly tired of being on the edge of exposing himself. It was much better just to listen at Hinata’s enthusiastic voice, to see his hands constantly moving. As Hinata sat in front of him, wearing a white jumper clearly too big for him, he seemed even more young and defenceless. Maybe an high schooler.

«I've always liked helping others.», Hinata smiled shyly, lowering his eyes, «Everybody do, don’t they? You help people, too. I could have been a doctor, or a nurse, that’s true, but I never was booksmart.», he laughed, and he looked a bit of a troublemaker. Atsumu couldn’t help but smile as well. «I was athletic, though. I could run and jump. I had a lot of energies and I was quite smart. Office work wasn’t for me.»

Why did he have to be so selfless? Why couldn’t he murder some old organ trafficker? Atsumu didn’t help people, Atsumu earned a lot of money to murder whoever was trying to destroy the Chimera. Whereas Hinata trained to chase criminals, Atsumu trained not to get caught. Whether it was an enemy organization or the police. They weren’t the only criminals around, but most likely the strongest. Only the strongest could survive.

«Aren’t you scared?», he looked at him, curious. «I mean, it’s such a dangerous job.»

That was the kind of question a normal person would ask, wasn’t it? The same question Osamu asked him, the only meaningful question Osamu ever asked him, his worried face hidden under his bangs. Atsumu knew from first hand experience how adrenaline could erase any worries - no,  _ everything _ . The dreadful boredom of a quiet life, the anxiety, the decency. Suga always complained about how at the beginning he was such a polite guy. But after just one mission, he felt completely comfortable in his new shoes. Then two, three, four, ten, twenty mission. He got a bullet in his stomach and once someone tried to poison him. Thinking about it made him feel like he wasn’t walking on the same ground as everyone’s else. He was one step higher.

He didn’t know what to expect from Hinata. He probably didn’t have to deal with critical situation most days. Atsumu thought he would have answered with some pretty dull excuse, some heroic phrase like “ _ anything for justice _ ”.

Atsumu saw his eyes shine, ever so bright, dilated, his tongue just peeking from his parted lips, his whole body tense, just like a cat about to jump on prey.

«I know.»

Atsumu thought Hinata was  _ hungry -  _ just like him. He needed to walk on the edge, to push as far as he could, to dive as deep as he could, to chase that one moment where your lungs burn for lack of air and everything’s pitch black right before you finally go up. 

He was hungry from a visceral hunger, as old as the world, that runs in his veins instead of blood, pump in the heart, enters inside with the oxigen. 

Atsumu didn’t need to answer anything. He laughed - as ungracefully and freely as he could.

_

When his phone rang, Atsumu though it was Suga. He didn’t even check the number, he just said: «Had fun?»

«I was supposed to ask you that.», answered a sarcastic voice on the other side, and Atsumu cursed Suga and all his messes.

«Omi-kun...», he complained, «what did I do this time?»

«Nothing yet», he mumbled, «Just meet Oikawa were I tell you to.»

Before Atsumu could reply, he shut the call off.  _ Lovely as always. _

_ _ _

This time he didn’t get lost, he wandered peacefully, smelling air that promised rain. That time of the year always smelled like metal, dense fog and harsh wind. His mind wandered until it reached Hinata, his deep, dark eyes and his hungry look...

He stopped right at the entrance of a library. He knew that the more isolated the place, the higher the chances the wrong person would hear the wrong things. He tried to look relaxed, hiding his hands in his pockets and almost whistling.

He reached a man with brown hair, throwing an arm on his shoulders, and whispering: «Did you miss me?»

Oikawa huffed, shrugging to get his arm off. He was wearing a ugly, giant pair of glasses and yet he didn’t look as ridiculous as he should. Still looked like he was out of a fashion magazine. 

«I got almost caught because of you. And Suga.», he replied, hissing.

Atsumu raised his arms. «I don’t know anything about it, go torture Suga.»

Oikawa stared at him suspiciously. Atsumu felt irritated. He took a random book from a shelf, browsing it. «If that’s why you met me here, I’m leaving»

Oikawa grabbed his arm, squeezing it enough to make it hurt.

«Not yet. Since tonight I’m leaving», Oikawa rolled his eyes at Atsumu’s curious expression, but of course didn’t say anything about it, «and you’re the only one around», Atsumu tried to open his mouth to protest that Suga was there as well, but Oikawa stopped him, «Suga already left. As I was saying, you’ve got a little job. Well paid of course.»

«Where and when?»

Oikawa grinned. «Everything for money, isn’t it?»

«I’d punch you for free.»

«Nice to know.»

Then, as if their lovely little chat was over, Oikawa went to the cash register. Atsumu, confused, followed him - he didn’t even know yet whether it was a murder, or a robbery, and it’s not like he had that many weapons with him, for obvious reasons, and Oikawa as always loved to wait until he lost his temper to give him a proper explanation.

«My order.», Oikawa said to the employee, a young man with arms covered in tattoos and long black hair.

He saw Oikawa paying the guy, who directly took the money, and Atsumu started to understand.

«Clever», Atsumu commented, as the automatic door opened. 

«Thanks.»

The outside air was cold and there was a dense fog. His breath formed little cloud. «How is Tobio-kun training going?», he asked, enjoying Oikawa’s disgusted expression. 

«You’re too scary! He’ll run away if you look at him like this!», Atsumu teased, swinging his bag now full of  _ books. _

«That little brat-»

«He’s just two years younger than you!»

«-is an excellent shooter and has so much cold blood  _ he _ scares  _ me _ . He’s getting one job done after the other, and it’s tiring to constantly check on him-»

«Wait, isn’t it good?»

Oikawa glance at him with murderous eyes.

« _ I hate him.  _ He’s always “ _ senpai _ ” here and “ _ senpai _ ” there», Oikawa mimicked him with an high pitched voice, even if they both knew Kageyama didn’t talk like that, «he acts like he needs some sort of approval, but he still does whatever he wants. It’s unfair how good he became in just six months.», Oikawa was basically growling at that point.

Atsumu patted his shoulder, yawning. He was tired. «Jealous, aren’t ya?»

«Terribly.»

_

Once he was finally home, with a hot cup of tea between his hands, sitting on the floor, he studied carefully the maps and the instructions Oikawa gave him. A nice, expensive mansion waiting for him to steal some string of codes. He didn’t even know whose mansion was yet, but he had to burge it without anyone finding about him. No murder allowed. Two murders in the same, little, quiet town was too easy to link.

Atsumu opened his book, where the pages were cut to make room for a gun (Oikawa put a post it on it, writing “don’t you dare” with a lot of exclamation marks and Atsumu thought that may be for his main mission). But, you know, just in case, nobody would die for a bullet on his leg.

_

The day after he woke up pretty early, and while he was choosing which shirt would suit him better, he sent a text to Hinata.

_ Would you like give me a tour of the town? _

Atsumu paced around his house - if you could call that a house - bored, revising once again the information Oikawa gave him, realising those fucking codes would be in a computer and he would need a password for said computer and then- well, let’s just say he wouldn’t like to get caught as he typed on the keyboard.

He tried to call Kenma, who just threatened his life with a yawn, then asked him a few details and for how long he thought he needed access to the computer.

When Atsumu asked Kenma why he couldn’t just hacked the computer and stole the codes without having him risking to blow up his cover, Kenma gave him the worst possible news: there was something blocking the access from remote, so Oikawa must have given him a good old USB pendrive.

After a lot of cursing and sweating in his beautiful shirt, Atsumu finally managed to find the tiny pendrive, looking at it like he found the Holy Grail ― it was under his sofa. 

Atsumu changed his shirt once again just before his phone rang. He jumped up immediately, excited like a child on Christmas’ eve. Then he pinched himself ― quite harshly, too ― and pulled himself together. He just had to stop acting like that.

Not like he cared for the little shrimp ‒ he cared for himself, though. Atsumu knew he was only hurting himself, acting so happy and joyful just thinking about spending time with him. When his hands would be covered in his blood ‒ so red, yet innocent, so pure yet venomous for him - Atsumu had no idea how he could have possibly fixed himself. Those kind of jobs were just Tendou’s jam (lure in his victim, playing cat and mouse with them), and Atsumu ‒ Atsumu had feeling, you know, hidden under layers of wrong choices.

_ Say no more! _

The text was still visible on his display. Just like a rabbit throwing himself into the wolf’s mouth. Atsumu tried to convince himself that was exactly what he wanted.

_

The air was clear now, no more fog like the day before, the sun was warm and morning dew was shining on the grass. What a charming weather. For sure, no matter how posh he liked to think he was, Atsumu wouldn’t have standed spending the whole day locked up in a museum or something.

The car ride took them 45 minutes ‒ the car being as tiny and as orange as its owner ‒ filled the loud noises from the radio whenever they both fell in awkward silence.

Atsumu was an interesting, composed and charming person ‒ no matter what Osamu, Suga, Oikawa, Akaashi, Shirabu and whoever else knew him thought ‒, so of course Hinata would be all around asking questions.

What wouldn’t be expected was for the  _ interesting, composed, charming _ Atsumu Miya to be so fascinated by the walking disaster Hinata Shouyou was. The way he gestured when he spoke (removing his hands from the car wheel and giving Atsumu continuous heart attacks), the way his eyes shined (just like fairy lights, or street lamps, or beacons or whatever sappy metaphor he could think of), the way he never shut up (not like his boss, thought, all boring blabbers and rolled eyes and smoked cigars who made impossible to look at his face).

Hinata was  _ vibrating _ on the driver seat, full of life, feeding on sunlight and Atsumu’s self preservation. And he was laughing ‒ he fixed his hair behind his ear, he continuously changed the radio station, he bit his lips, resting an arm out of the car window. Hinata was as far away as the sky on their heads, yet as close as the ground they were walking on.

«I played volleyball, in highschool», Hinata said, between a story about a crazy senpai of his, some Tanaka that looked much like a delinquent, and the plot of the latest film he watched.

Atsumu spied on him with the corner of his eye, amused, thinking about a tiny orange shrimp running and jumping in the gym. Maybe he was a libero, since he was so small. «Which role?»

«Middle blocker.»

Maybe his most real self took over, because he couldn’t help but widen his eyes and ask: «Did you at least managed to reach to net?»

Hinata slapped his head, way more lighter than Suga ever did, and giggled. He tried to look annoyed, but his mouth was curved into a smile.

«I was good.»

Atsumu got closer, raising an eyebrow and whispering almost into his ear ‒ fucking safety belt. «No doubts.»

Just as he expected, his ears caught fire, but Atsumu felt merciful enough to blame it on the heat. He smiled seraphic and adjusted to his seat. There were so many half truth, half said between them, one more wouldn’t hurt. Breaking his rule number one was not a bother anymore. One out of four could be broken, he though. No big deal. «I played, too. Guess which role.»

Hinata didn’t even bother thinking about it, he kept driving with a relaxed smile on his face.

«Setter.»

«Why did you think that?»

«You’re tall-»

«Everyone playing volleyball is tall.»

Hinata’s bothered glance stopped him from saying more. 

«Sorry, keep going.»

«You’ve got such a sly expression, like you’re thinking about your rivals moves, you look so confident, like you’re used to have everyone’s attention-»

« _ Sly expression? _ » Atsumu wished he looked more offended than flattered, but it just was so hard, and then Hinata said he looked  _ confident... _

«Going out with me to keep me under control,  _ detective? _ », Atsumu said, sounding as mean as he could, his hand slightly pulling one of Hinata’s locks. Then he  _ casually  _ left his fingers lingering on Hinata’s pale and soft neck. «I didn’t realize you saw right through me.»

«And- and-  _ your finger _ .», Hinata breathed, not telling him to stop as he kept brushing his skin. «Your fingers are long and your hands are so well taken care of and your nails are always short, so I assume you were actually serious about it and the habit grew on you.»

Atsumu let out a whistle. «Not bad at all. No wonder you're a private detective.»

Atsumu’s finger still lingered on his neck.

_

Once they finally stopped, Atsumu safely landed, as the nauseous feeling that bothered him for the past minutes was fading away. The landscape was made of endless, bright green field, so green they looked fake.

«Do you like it?»

Hinata put an hand on his forehead to protect his eyes from the sun, still harsh on his skin.

«Did you get sunscreen?»

Hinata playfully glanced at him, he really looked like a child who successfully hide shards from a broken pot under the rag.

«Worrying about me?»

Atsumu didn’t say a word. He was afraid of his own answer.

_

That night there was supposed to be some sort of events for rich people only, the kind of event his victim would take part in alongside his wife.

Atsumu had to admit glasses really suited him, although his fake ponytail was destroying his intellectual look, making him more of a hippie. He checked his bag just to make sure he got everything he could possibly need: mask, pendrive, some beverage he would serve to Tachibana-san, just to be sure he would party all night long, gloves (Sakusa made him paranoid about fingertips).

He went there was the event already started, not impressioned at all by the grandeous style of the restaurant, having little to no time to actually appreciated it. He went through without any trouble, acting like he was completely at ease, even if his wig was uncomfortable and his suit was one size too small. Thanks to Akaashi’s insomnia he knew their special guest would come in a little late. He served tables with his perfect posture and his delightful attentions: “would you like more wine?”, “I can show you where the terrace is”, “please, leave your coats to me”. He hated it.

He let his mind wander – what else could he do? – and thought about Hinata. Atsumu pictured him wearing a smoking just like his own, jumping around the room, making one mess after the other, spilling champagne and bumping into rich old ladies. That lifted his mood. He would have slapped himself if only he wasn’t surrounded by people.

After Atsumu waited for what looked like a century, Tachibana-san graced them all with his presence. Atsumu walked toward him with his most reassuring smile, asking once again to leave their coats to him, and then he made sure to bring them wine and his parting gift. He took his wife’s coat as well and went straight into the changing room ‒ or whatever those were.

He didn’t check to be left alone, nor he looked defensive. (One of his first times ‒ Marseilles, maybe? ‒ Suga told him “we’re not doing anything wrong”, and Atsumu was about to answer that the politician they just poisoned wouldn’t agree with them, but Suga just stopped and looked at him and repeated “we’re not doing anything wrong”. Atsumu remembered how light and confident he felt while Suga was grinning at him.)

_ I’m not doing anything wrong _ , he thought, as he took the house key and all sorts of controller which would help him get trough, not a worry on his face, as if that was actually legal. He silently left the restaurant, reaching his car and immediately started driving, until the lights of the restaurant fade away.

_ _ _

He finally got rid of his wig and his glasses, who kept sliding down his nose. He wore his mask (he could have avoided it, but his golden hair could be seen even in a pitch dark room) and reflected on where to park his car.

That was a posh neighborhood, one of those neighborhood where everybody knows each other, because they keep spying on the closest garden to see who has the biggest one. Such a cheap car as he had ‒ he cursed his boss and his attachment to money – would surely be noticed by some curious staring at the window. And rich people had this weird tendency to be paranoid about robbery. The more you have, the more you have to lose.

So he had to park quite far away, removing his mask and quickly fixing his hair. Trying to look as confident as he could ( _ he wasn’t doing anything wrong _ ), he walked on the street, hiding his hands in his pockets. C’mon, who would have thought he was a thief, while he was wearing a suit?

Who would have thought he was a thief while he was using  _ keys _ to introduce himself in the house?

He wore his mask again once he was in (okay, to be honest, he was just dying to wear a mask during a robbery), he looked around the house, not as expensive as he thought. To think a guy like that wanted to get in the Chimera’s ways. He found the little studio, and just as a sleepy Kenma promised him, the computer had no password. Atsumu had no idea how he could be so damn good.

But since he also was so damn good (alright, maybe just not as good as Kenma), after just a couple of minutes he was already done downloading everything he needed.

Everything was going perfectly smooth, until he heard the fucking police sirens.

_ No way. _

So someone really spied on him.

He quickly removed the pendrive, intentionally leaving the plastic plate with his fake name he wore at the restaurant. The police would only got a fake id and a fake phone number, and they would search for a guy with glasses and long, black hair. He didn’t think twice about opening the window facing the garden , looking doubtfully at the roof of the nearest mansion.

_ Quite the jump, no shit. _

He felt his heartbeat getting faster, his neck covered in sweat, his legs heavy as he stepped back and tried to measure how he should have jumped not to die once reached the ground. He couldn’t help but laugh, even though his laugh was suffocated against his mask.

He run and jumped, even more quickly then he thought he could manage. He landed on the roof as the cops were still shouting to get out of the house.  _ Idiots. _

He wondered whether he should remain there until the cops would enter the mansion, clearing the street. He just had few second to taste his victory, then he heard a voice.

_ «He jumped!» _

He cursed whoever took notice. Then he realised it was a strangely familiar voice. He peeked through, just a little bit, enough to recognize a red head that could belong to one person only. 

He thought, as cold as he could be, that he could have pulled out the gun and shot him right in the head. A tragic death during his shift. Only Tachibana-san would have known the Chimera was behind it, but he wouldn’t tell a soul, since he was much of a criminal as they were. Perfect. He would kill two birds with one stone. Such a clean job could even gain him a promotion.

He would have done it, he would have fucking done it, if only he didn’t hear some noises coming right under the roof. That fucking moron was climbing the wall to reach him. He could have waited with his gun out and shot his face the second he would reach the top. Why not. He would have to look into his lively, big eyes and then saw them turn off like lights during a black out. Fuck it,  _ that  _ was his job. Sooner or later, that was exactly what he would have done. Avoiding that moment with dates and trips and gods knew what else would be pointless.

Atsumu thought about all his previous missions: about people he screwed over, killed, manipulated, blackmailed. He never thought about them as actual people ‒ they were just objects, just obstacles in the way of the Chimera and his own success.

But Hinata wasn’t much of an object: not with all the screams and curses he could hear from over there, coming right from his mouth. There was nothing more animated and more endearing than Hinata, with his oversized jumper and his weird ideas about Christmas.

Atsumu Miya was ferocious, his opinion was changeable, sometimes he was a nightmare to deal with but he was  _ professional  _ ‒ otherwise he would be dead already. A tiny, red chick wouldn’t send to waste all the years he trained, all the years he slowly climbed at top of the organization. He was so angry, so bitter, so scared (scared because that would be the final act of their tragedy, now or two months later wouldn’t make much difference and he had no choice over that ‒ breaking his first rule wasn’t just a silly mistake, he realized, but was the beginning of a never ending fall and he just finally landed).

He didn’t move, slowly getting his gun out, hoping for a miracle that would never happen ‒ you can’t believe in miracle if you lead the same life as his.

He removed the safety catch.

That noise just threw him off guard. His hands were trembling.

He hid his head between his shoulders, just like Suga taught him. He bit the inside of his cheek to gain some self-control. Hinata’s movement were closer, clearer, heavier, the sand in his hourglass was almost gone. He wasn’t even that special, just some guy in a world full of  _ some guys  _ ‒ how long did he know him? A week? Something more? Did Hinata ever proved himself to be special?

Atsumu could now almost see his face in the dark, his hair uncombed, his forehead shiny with sweat, most determined not to give up. He gave him the look of a fanatic, of a predator, of a man who wants nothing from his life but action -  _ to chase or be chased, to shoot or be shot.  _ Atsumu recognised those eyes, not even shining, literally burning from hunger (just like in the coffee shop, as terrible as the sweetest promise). Atsumu recognized those eyes as his owns. Hinata’s life was fueled the same way his was. 

Oh, he  _ did  _ prove he was special ‒ he proved they were just the same.

He shot, confused, overwhelmed, walking of the edge of everything he ever believed in. To chase or be chased, to shoot or be shot.

Atsumu ‒ who was always good at turning tables and screwing himself ‒ shot him and run away, to be chased. He shot him just to prove himself that he had total control over it.

Of course he missed, and without even looking back he run to the other side of the roof, jumping onto the next one. His backpack was heavy on his shoulder, his blood pumped so fast he swore he could hear it. As soon as he was back on his feet, Hinata was right behind him,

Atsumu kept running, frantic, as fast as he could, his torso leaning forward, his feeling a total mess. It was like one of those dreams where you don’t know what’s chasing you, but it doesn’t matter. Like one of those dreams were you wake up all scared with a heavy breath.

He wanted to laugh, to scream, to throw his arms to the sky because it hadn’t felt this way for so long. Too long. Beside their unsteady breaths, and heavy steps, it was dead silence. And in that dead silence, under a dark, starless sky, Hinata laughed. Beautifully wild, crazy, noisy, same way Atsumu laughed in the coffee shop ‒ the call of the hunt, the primordial instinct roaring in his blood.

He run and jumped without ever stopping, as it was an obstacle course. At some point he chose to use his slight advantage and jumped off the roof and roll over the grass. He was lucky enough not to break a leg.

He raised his eyes, tired, and realised Hinata was about to follow him, because otherwise he would have lost him. He got up, ready to run. But he saw a lightning fast figure crossing the sky. 

_ He’s never gonna make it _ , he thought,  _ no way. _

But he landed gracefully on the other building's roof, just like he had wings, silent and fast, a splinter cutting the air. Atsumu stood there without even breathing, his mouth opened in awe and his body numbed.

He thought of him as a tiny chick ‒ gods, how wrong could he have been?

_

«Poison him», suggested Osamu absentmindedly, «just put something in his lunch.»

«Ya can’t solve all yer problems with food.»

«Challenge him to a contest. Whoever eats more meat buns win», he kept going, ignoring his protests, «he’ll probably choke.»

_ «He’s not that stupid to-»  _ Atsumu started.Then he thought about it. «Mean buns, ya say?»

He shouldn’t be talking with his brother about those things, though  _ technically _ nobody was forcing him to stay silent. It was more something like, if you talk with the wrong person, you’re dead. Osamu was somewhere close to the the wrong person, but not quite it.

He could call Suga ‒  _ slightly  _ more experience then Osamu about murders ‒ but just the idea of telling him he didn’t want to directly murder Hinata was dangerous. That was the sole purpose of his mission. Then Suga would of course ask  _ why  _ and Atsumu wasn’t ready to answer to himself about it, let alone to Suga.

«Atsumu, what’s really going on?», his brother asked.

Atsumu sighed and closed the call. That was all the answer his brother needed.

-

They kept dating, of course, because nobody was really worried about Atsumu’s stability. And Hinata kept being  _ Hinata _ ‒ tiny, yes, but still a challenge.

Now he was waiting for him outside the police station. The stringe of codes was now in Kita-san’s custody and he got his payment.  _ Nice _ , he would have thought a few months ago, but recently he tried not to think too much about it. He just pretended his life was in stand by, frozen somewhere. 

What he was currently living wasn’t his life ‒ it was a dream, he suddenly realized.

_ A dream _ , he thought as Hinata was greeting him with a smile, turning around to stick his tongue out to a tall, blond guy with a dead serious look on his face.

_ «That’s Tsukki» _ Hinata whispered, answering his silent question. Well, Hinata surely described him differently. He was expecting some ugly, grumpy troll. He was still a cop, though. 

«Looks like he’s got a stick up to his ass.» he muttered, making Hinata laugh as he threw an arm around his shoulders.

_ A dream. _

It was already dark outside and they were heading to a pub. For once everything seemed to be sailing smooth and with a bit of luck Atsumu could finally get drunk. Hinata was wearing a white shirt with rolled sleeves and some black, wonderfully tight jeans. The first couple a button were left open and he could barely see his collarbone. Since it was almost summer, he was somehow tanned, too. Under the green lights of the pub sign his face was longer and sharper, his eyes round and shiny like marbles.  _ Cute. _

(Atsumu wasn’t even strong enough to deny it, or just to remind himself or the flaws Hinata should have had ‒ as time went by he couldn’t even think about them as flaws.)

The wooden bench were uncomfortable. They  _ might  _ have drunk too much. To be fair, after the third beer Atsumu felt like he regained a bit of his dignity, though he probably lost it after the fifth one. But that didn’t matter.

They ended up talking about work, because what else were they supposed to do? Whether it was real job or a fake one, two people going out for a drink were much likely to complain about that. 

«I know some self defence» Hinata said, once Atsumu asked him what did he learn. Atsumu picture him throwing kicks with his skinny legs, breaking wrists with a glowing look, pointing guns and...

«I know some taekwondo», Atsumu quickly answered, trying not to think about him too much. That would lead nowhere. 

«Cool!»

Atsumu grinned behind his glass, heated because of the strong beer he just finished.

«Ya dunno how cool it can be» he basically spluttered. Maybe that was enough alcohol for tonight, or tomorrow he would have had a killer headache. He felt a bit light headed, so it took him a while to realize what he actually said.

He looked Hinata’s right in the eye, wishing nothing but drowning himself. 

Second rule:  _ the accent. _

He knew that was bullishit, just like his first, third and fourth rule, but still those were rules and were there to be respected, to keep him grounded and in control. It shouldn’t be much hard, should it? That was just another piece of himself he gave to someone, someone with a fucking close  _ expiration date _ , someone who was taking all his time and his attention and Atsumu just wanted to keep his rules for himself. It wasn’t much to ask, just a piece of himself to protect from Hinata.

But Hinata was just like a black hole, absorbing everything Atsumu tried to keep away from him, destroying his will to fight, breaking down his walls. He absorbed everything and he didn’t even knew, he didn’t even want it, he just used gravity to pull Atsumu ever so close.

«I think it’s hot.» Hinata breathed, looking at him with red lips and liquid eyes hidden behind half closed lids.

«Taekwondo or my accent?», Atsumu asked, starting his sixth?, seventh beer. What could go possibly wrong? The worst he could do was to go and tell him he was there to murder him.

« _ Both. _ »

Atsumu grinned and felt the need to sink his nails into his arm, because right now there were a lot of things he wanted to do ‒ things he wanted to say ‒,  _ but there were lines he couldn’t cross _ \- even if- even though-  _ just don’t. _

He got up to pay and silenced Hinata’s protests.

«Next time…» , he vaguely promised, yawning loudly.

Yup.  _ Next time _ . And the time after that. How many times it would take to destroy himself for good? To let guilt eat him alive? To crumble his hard and rotten heart?

Outside the pub wind was blowing ‒ waking him up enough to regain some composure. After walking not even for a minute in full silence, Hinata stopped in the middle of the street and grabbed his arm.

«Let’s fight.»

Hinata ripped the silence with a too steady voice for someone who should be at least tipsy. Atsumu glance at him: he was completely wasted, and so it didn’t occur him that was not the time or the place for something like that.

«You sure? I don’t fight people less strong than I am.», he replied, raising his eyebrow. He saw Hinata widen his eyes, the blushing and then proudly lifting up his chin.

What he didn’t saw was Hinata’s fist going right for his face. His muscle memory saved him, so he quickly blocked his wrist. How easily could he break him, tug him, push him in the middle on the road, let a car run him over? What wasn’t he doing that? What his feet were so heavy?

He loosened his hold to kick him, but Hinata quickly run away to avoid it. Just as he said ‒ tiny, but still a challenge.

His face was now close, so close, bathed in the warm light of a street lamp, wild and red for the alcohol, his hair ruffled, his pupils dilated.

«So your way of flirting is punching people?», Atsumu breathed against him, not moving away. He was burning his dreamy look in the back of his mind, enjoying the sensation of holding him. There was nothing more he was allowed to do.

Unless- if he wasn’t- if he just-  _ no. _

«Well,  _ your  _ way of flirting is just  _ not flirting _ .» Hinata answered him, getting even closer. Another time he would laugh at them, his torso leaning forward and Hinata stretched as hard as he could not to get on his toes.

Even like this, Hinata’s nose was brushing his lips, and that was enough to short circuit his brain.  _ Stop _ ‒ his mind begged ‒  _ stop stop stop stop. _

There would be nothing more ‒ just two broken rules and a faded memory.

«I’m so tired», Hinata softly complained, holding his arm with newly found strength and leaning against him. His breath smelled like the beers they just drank. His shirt was soft against his fingers. His back was sweaty. Atsumu was tired, too. So, so tired.

_ «Atsumu»  _ Hinata called him in a tiny voice, his name slowly whispered «do you like me?»

_ No –  _ he thought, enraged as he could, a vein on his neck showing off ‒  _ I don’t like you, I hate so much, all this fucking troubles- if you- I should- I hate you I hate you. _

Atsumu grabbed Hinata’s neck ‒ just as thin as his wrists, as fragile as porcelain ‒and pushed him forward, to meet his lips. It was warm, messy, tongues chasing one another, mouths crashing against each other. Hinata tilted his head to give him a better, deeper, more breathtaking access. Atsumu held him by his jumper and interrupted the kiss, just to move to Hinata’s jaw, biting, and sucking, and licking until he got to his neck, breathing against his Adam’s apple.

«Take it as a  _ yes _ .», Atsumu whispered, his head abandoned on Hinata’s shoulder, Hinata’s lips still hungered, kissing him, red and shiny for so much kissing. Atsumu run his fingers through his hair, trying to fix the mess they became, his chest hurting and his head empty. He couldn’t think about anything ‒ no excuses, no reasons, no way out. He wished he could close his eyes not to see him, but he knew it would hurt just the same. 

«My place», Hinata started, almost shy, all his confidence gone (Atsumu took as a personal offence, because Hinata just couldn’t tear him inside out and then act up all innocent) «is nearby.»

Atsumu nodded, rubbing his thumb on his cheek.

He would murder him as soon as they crossed the threshold.

_

Maybe Atsumu should have focused on a plan once in the elevator, if only he didn’t have the brilliant idea to pull Hinata up by his shoulder and pushing him against the wall and stick his tongue into his mouth. Hinata was into it, too.

Kissing him wasn’t just nice or just sweet. Kissing him was intoxicant, animalistic, rough. Hinata’s taste on his mouth was the best thing Atsumu could get. He held him by his waist, nails digging into his hips just to hear him groan. Once they got outside the apartment, he suddenly stopped. 

It was just a moment, a second when he froze and stared at him like Hinata was actually the one out to murder him. Yet Hinata noticed it and gave him a silent question, a wrinkle forming on his forehead. Atsumu kissed that wrinkle, closing his eyes and savoring that moment before it was too late.

He was wrapped in Hinata’s smell, so familiar, so reassuring, just like a  _ welcome back _ , as soft as his skin. They kept kissing, more hungry, more angry, more desperate. Hinata let out an indecent moan. Atsumu grabbed his hair and left a trail of kisses from his cheek to his temple. In the empty hallway, the only thing he could hear were their heavy breaths. Hinata didn’t even managed yet to turn on the lights.

It would be less painful, less excruciating not to look at his face. His hands were on Hinata’s neck, slowly brushing it, until they stopped and started to apply pressure. Much more pression, much more precisely. Crushing him. Not thinking about who was they guy he was about to murder, but just and the corpse beneath him in a few minutes. No goodbye. No tears.

He felt something cold and metallic pressing on his chest, and the noise of a safety catch being removed. His hands left Hinata’s neck and fell on his sides. Atsumu looked at him while he turn on the lights with his free arm.

The picture unravelling before his eyes, the same picture his brain refused to understand, was Hinata with his unbuttoned shirt and shiny eyes, his lips puffy and parted, a gun in his left hand which still was pressed against his chest. He shouldn’t be so excited. He should at least be a little worried.

«There was something about this that seemed off», Hinata casually said, «right when I finally was close to an actual lead, this dazzling stranger comes and wants to get to know me-» 

«You think I’m dazzling?»

«Don’t act like you don’t know»

«-and it might not seem off yet, but just one week later there a robbery. A thief who managed to get in with  _ keys.  _ Someone so good to quietly introduce himself everywhere ‒ even in my life...»

Atsumu snorted. «Just because you found one criminal, doesn’t mean everything’s my fault.»

«Nothing was stolen. The victim himself says nothing is missing. But what kind of thief would break in just to get nothing? So the victim lied, and was probably forced to.» Hinata pressed the gun again. Atsumu grinned. «There can’t be just one person, behind it all. There must be a group, an  _ organization _ . The only one I could think of was the very one I was investigating on.» Hinata stopped and looked at him, curious. «Why would be there a need for a mask? If it was just some random guy from the Chimera, he would just leave unnoticed. He must be someone who stopper in town. And this is a very small town. So I start searching from some evidence, some links ‒ nothing came out, if you were wondering ‒ until Yachi found about a cop murdered in unclear circumstances in Tokyo while investigating about some drug dealers.»

«To think I even liked her...»

Hinata said no more. Atsumu couldn’t believe ten minutes ago he could barely lay on his feet or form a complete sentence. So he wasn’t the only one lying. (He shouldn’t focus on both Hinata’s fiery eyes and the gun pointed on him, but it was all so  _ distracting _ .)

«I find it hot.», he playfully commented, his hand on the wall where Hinata was cornered. Atsumu took a moment to admire his inviting lips and all the red marks already forming on his pale neck.

«The gun or me exposing you?»

«Both.»

Hinata tried to remain serious, but then he giggled and relaxed. Just a bit, loosening up. He was waiting for explanation. Gods, he may be waiting to be attacked again. Atsumu of course didn’t confirmed anything yet, he just stared at him and kept asking himself how the hell was he supposed to  _ resist  _ him. He resisted for so long, he tried not to cross the line. Maybe he should have ‒ he should have skipped all the steps while he still had the chance and tie a rope on his neck before he started to feel something.

«Was it all fake?» Hinata asked then, slowly, trying not to look too much involved, Atsumu though was sure he saw a glimmer of hope behind his eyes. And he couldn’t allow Hinata to think that ‒ to think he faked it all for more than two months, to think he tested all his jokes and glances in front of a mirror. He realized the weight on his chest was actually  _ anger  _ ‒ he was angry, so fucking pissed, because of Hinata and his lack of trust, his eyes like black holes ready to absorb him and unveil every single lies of his. (Which lies, one would ask, since Hinata already knew everything he lied about).

He circled his neck and felt Hinata’s surprised moan right on his lips before kissing him. He finished to unbutton his shirt, Hinata squirming under him trying to remove it. As he interrupted the kiss the toss his own shirt somewhere on the floor, Atsumu took  _ the  _ decision. With Hinata’s hands in his pants ‒ only such an urgent situation would hurry him to confess all the feeling he bottled up for so long. 

He broke all his rules, at the same time, no mercy whatsoever for himself ‒ and at the end of the day he wasn’t even sure Hinata wouldn’t hit him and arrest him, leaving him empty-handed.

«’m a killa.», he whispered with short breath, talking into Hinata’s neck with the worst accent he could possibly mastered, «and they sent me to kill ya.» Atsumu held him closer as he bit his shoulder, licking the mark he formed. Hinata’s knee was pressing against his crotch.  _ Three gone  _ ‒ he thought, with the last bit of conscience he had –  _ one to go. _

«But» he cupped his cheeks and got even closer to his face, so close he could mirror himself in his pupils, «I fell in love with ya.»

«I’ve got a bad news for you.» Hinata gripped his nape, their forehead bumping into each other. Atsumu shivered. «I fell in love with you too.»

Atsumu let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding back. He kissed him ‒ again and again and again, lifting Hinata up enough to let his legs around his hips.

«Never heard worst news.»

They managed to get to the bedroom ‒ he had no idea how ‒ and Atsumu threw him on the mattress, caressing his chest and unzipping his jeans. Atsumu was dying from desire. He wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to have him just for himself ‒ nothing could ever seem enough.

_ «Shouyou»  _ he called with a broken voice, his name spilling from his lips like the sweetest sound.  _ Shouyou  _ was touching him, scratching him, demanding him as if they were about to melt into one another. Merciless, he was devouring him.

Atsumu liked being in charge, though, so in a few minutes he locked Hinata’s wrist right above his head, and smirked when he heard Hinata’s disappointment. He bit the soft skin on his stomach, going lower, mouthing at his boxer, delightfully tight.

He wanted to-  _ he could _ \- now they- even if-  _ yes.  _

He got rid of Hinata’s boxer, freeing his wrist, so Hinata pounced on his lips, kissing away all his worries, all the night he spent awake, staring at the ceiling, asking himself how he could possibly deal with a life after killing him ‒ Hinata kissed away everything, empting him a filling him with his touches, his pleads, his warm kips. He could distinctly hear him chanting his name.

_ «’Tsumu.» _

Hinata lean toward his nightstand, getting condoms and lube ‒ while he was facing his back, Atsumu bit his ass and give him a hickey on his hip.

«Just tell if it’s too much», Atsumu told him, even though Hinata seemed already willing to murder him. 

He started to penetrate him with his tongue, slowly licking his entrance, adding a finger wet with saliva in order to loosen it up. After a particular high pitched moan, frustrated and not at all satisfied, Atsumu decided to add two fingers coated in lube. Hinata was so hot and tight ‒ he was impossibly tight, and he hesitated adding a third finger.

«Oh, come on!» Hinata muttered, swifting their position, nailing Atsumu to the mattress and holding him still while he was sinking on his fingers, moaning and throwing his head back. Hinata wasn’t as frail as he thought, he realized. He was covered in bites and marks yet still seem like a predator more than a pray, looking at him like he was going to devour him. He pulled his hair and kissed him ravenously, chanting «please, please, ‘Tsumu,  _ please. _ »

Atsumu didn’t even have much patience to begin with, so he wore the condom, smearing lube on his erection. He moaned when Hinata swirled his tongue on his nipple. He swifted Hinata right under him, kissing him again. He penetrated in one push, sighing at the blissful sensation, try not to come on the spot. 

Was there something to keep him from melting into Hinata’s arms, forgetting his name and everything else, to keep his brain from being completely filled by Hinata’s noises, his smells, his touch. Atsumu rolled his hips again, burying himself deeper, reaching his prostate. It was like reaching the sun. Hinata screamed and Atsumu swallowed every moan of his, licking his sweat off his nape, squeezing his tights, leaving red fingerprints. His body trembled as he kept thrusting, enjoying the burning feeling of Hinata’s nails scraping is skin.

Atsumu pulled out and pushed in with harsh movements, hearing the noise of his hips slapping against Hinata’s ass. Hinata squirmed under him, arching his back and clinging at his shoulder to meet his thrusts. Then he bit his shoulder ‒ like he wanted to see him bleed.

_ «Ouch!» _

Atsumu looked at Hinata, searching for an apology. He couldn’t keep himself focus for long, anyway. Splayed with his arms around his neck, his golden eyes ‒ still so hungry, hungry  _ for him  _ ‒ and such a superior look, like he knew better than him anyway. Atsumu pushed his aching dick as deep as he could.

«You shoot me», Hinata complained, tugging his hair. He raised his head to look him in the eyes and Atsumu felt their perfect synchronization. Yes, he shot him, and then he chased him in the middle of night, short-breathed, adn Atsumu finally understood what it was like to find someone just like him. 

«You’re the one who got up there», Atsumu answered him, pushing him down. «Occupational hazard» he added smoothly, grabbing Hinata’s ass for a particularly sharp thrust, sighing as Hinata moaned shamelessly. Atsumu held him until he was sure he left a blushing print.

«I’m dangerous», he whispered on his lips, smiling and stealing a long kiss, his tongue dipping in Hinata’s mouth. Before Hinata could answer him, Atsumu put a hand around his erection, stroking him just once. He kept thrusting, now slow and lustful, until Hinata let out a cry, his lids shut and his fists pulling the sheets. Atsumu thought about how he would feel to be hold the same way Hinata was holding the sheet, how much it would hurt. He wanted to  _ feel _ the pleasure Hinata was feeling, in the same way he was feeling. Atsumu observed for week, denying his feelings, his desires, not even thinking about what they could have been together.

Atsumu held his arms ‒ his body tensed for the oncoming orgasm ‒ and smiled once he realized Hinata was trembling under him. He puts his arms around his neck, letting him cling tight, their sweaty skin sticking.

Atsumu came with a broken noise, dying inside his tight walls, with Hinata’s sperm almost dried on his stomach.

-

«What are we going to do now?», Shouyou asked, playing with a wet strand of his hair, after he took a shower. There was a pleasant musky scent on his skin.

Atsumu kissed his cheek, his nose brushing his temple.

«Do you like Brazil?»

**Author's Note:**

> I was so exctited about the atsuhina week, and I tried my best. English isn't my first language and my sister hepled me a lot with the traslation - basically, she did all the job. I hope you didn't find the fic too long, or boring! Thanks for reading!


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